When You're Gone
by Indecisive Invalid
Summary: Arthur laments his brother's presence in his life.


"_Everyone_ dies, Arthur. Even nations. That's why you can't take us for granted, okay?"

"I know that," He growled under his breath, fingers carefully threading through his brother's tangled hair. He knew that more than he wished he did. Ireland watched his younger brother's back from the cot over, lips pursed. Death among the Kirklands – it was such a sore subject to the Brit. Especially when it came to Wales. Someone who'd been by his side, forced or not, for the better of seven hundred years. His confidante and best friend – the one who had never left.

Ireland left. Scotland wanted his own government. Ulster's existence was a frail one; a child borne of the religious cries of the Protestants. There would be no telling the odds of his survival if the entire island became united once more.

Keiran had promised to never leave his big brother – much unlike Arthur's other younger brothers. America, Australia, Canada – they all left, eventually. To become their own countries, rise on their own in the world. Time and again they left behind a broken heart, and a lonely Englishman. Time and again Dylan had come in to wipe away the tears, mend the broken heart, return the hope.

And now, Arthur was faced with the horrible truth – Dylan could die. Once-blue lips now gasped weakly for air, even as it was pumped into his lungs. Cheeks, once rosy and full of life, were pale and sunken. The wrinkles in his face were smoothed out; mainly due to Arthur's constant prodding. He always seemed such a strong, idealistic man.

He always wore a strong expression. Was always there to help Arthur; slow to anger and quick to protect. He was the best big brother that Arthur could ever ask for – not that he'd ever admit it.

His death-skin was a sharp contrast to the green and beige of the room. Arthur bit back a cry of sheer anguish and pressed his brother's unmoving hand to his cheek. Ireland frowned and brushed his fingers over his own recently-mended ribs, memory of the accident fresh in his mind. He nearly called out to his brother; the innate desire to comfort his little Arthur, hold him, hug him until the pain disappeared, it throbbed in his heart and through his blood. His fingers and lips twitched expectantly, yet he remained silent. Arthur needed this. He needed to grieve.

"D-Dylan," He whimpered, fingers threading through his brother's own as he squeezed as tightly as he dared. Wales did not respond. "Dylan, please... you _promised_. You promised you wouldn't leave me." The cry he released was so hopeless, so spent, that Seamus felt his heart breaking in two. After a few moments of Arthur's desperate sobs, the ginger carefully slid off of the cot and sat down next to his brother, carding his fingers through the unruly mass of blonde hair, voice unusually reserved as he spoke.

"Remember, Arthur, how he fell. He went down protecting you." The Briton stiffened at his brother's touch and shimmied away slightly, cheeks puffed out childishly as he maintained his hold on Dylan's limp hand. He wiped at his tears quickly, keeping a steady gaze on the slow rise and fall of his brother's chest. His own moved in the same beat, his heart thundering in his ears.

What would happen if Dylan's stopped?

Seamus let his hand drop slowly as he watched his brother expectantly. Arthur had his gaze averted; however, for the mere second that their eyes had come into contact, Seamus could see all of the desperation and helplessness locked within his emerald irises. The comfort he so needfully scrabbled for. Every muscle in his body twitched in desire; it took all of his self-control to keep from reaching out to Seamus. He would not succumb. He was far more prideful.

After some moments of silence, a muffled cough caught the attention of both Kirklands as they turned their attention to the blonde lying limply in bed. His eyebrows were knit together in pain, eyes scrunched shut. Arthur squeezed his brother's hand in silence, eyes wide as he watched the Welshman return to the land of the living.

He came to slowly, unconsciously relishing in the feel of fingers running through his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before restarting. He pursed his lips quietly in approval and slowly opened his eyes, peering up at the ginger who was caressing his hair; the other one present was holding onto his hand for dear life and Dylan couldn't help but crack a weak smile despite himself. It all felt so wrong. He wasn't supposed to get the attention. He only did what he had to do; he never asked for any special treatment.

Seamus was humming under his breath as he worked to keep Dylan calm – though the younger seemed rather lethargic, anyway. The younger Kirkland could freak out in the blink of an eye and injure himself further. Next to him, Arthur fought back tears as he watched the return of his brother. Dylan offered him a quiet smile, which Arthur returned, albeit slightly weaker yet filled with relief. Carefully, Dylan pulled himself up onto his elbows and winced. Seamus pushed him back down gently, eyes hardening for a split second.

"Don't exert yourself. You two can cuddle laying down." Dylan smiled weakly and chuckled softly, the action vibrating through his chest cavity and made him wince, while Arthur glared at his brother and huffed.

"I don't 'cuddle'," He murmured quietly, glancing at Dylan fleetingly. Dylan hummed softly, taking a moment to cough. Seamus pat his chest lightly.

"You thirsty, lad? Hungry?" Dylan frowned faintly and shook his head, glancing over at Arthur and squeezed his hand; the fingers still laced together. Arthur offered his brother a weak smile in return. Pouting slightly, Seamus stood up and ruffled Dylan's hair.

"I'm going back to sleep then. If you need anything, scream or throw something." He shuffled back over to his old cot and groaned as he lay down, turning his head from the scene as he closed his eyes.

Dylan peered at his brother quietly as Arthur watched Seamus leave, the interlacing fingers twitching. The Welshman read the signal easily and squeezed Arthur's hand encouragingly, nodding his head towards his brother. The Brit flushed a faint shade of pink and shook his head, glancing back at Eire to make sure he was still turned away. He relaxed slightly when he realised that Seamus had not noticed anything.

Dylan huffed faintly, before offering Arthur a reserved smile and repeated the gesture. Arthur shook his head frantically, resting his chin on the cot as he watched his brother.

"... I'm glad you're okay, Dylan." The Welshman offered a smile and murmured through his mask.

"I'm still here, love, for now." Arthur's brows furrowed in disapproval and he pulled away, watching Dylan in discontent. He wasn't sure what it was with Dylan sometimes, the brother whom he could normally read like an open book (and vice-versa), but there were times when Dylan was adamant that he would not always be on the planet – something that Arthur knew but did not want to accept. There were times when he acted like he was going to perish at any moment.

Like now.

"Dylan, please. Don't talk like that." He whispered desperately, squeezing Dylan's hand tightly. His brother looked away sadly, ruefully, lips moving in a silent chant.

"You... It's the truth, Arthur, and I'm sorry, but-"

"No! No, we are _not_ going to let you die! Y-You... You _promised_ you'd stay with me!" The tears started afresh, streaming down Arthur's cheeks in a sparkling dance. Dylan untangled his hand from Arthur's and used his thumb to brush them away, fingers sweeping his bangs away from his brother's eyes to offer him a meek smile. Arthur batted his hand away and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"It'll be okay, Ar-"

"Please, Dylan. You're not in danger anymore. You don't need to talk like that." He sighed softly and pressed their hands together again, his own squeezing the Briton's. Arthur bit back a whimper and looked away.

"... I bloody hate this." Dylan stifled a smile.

"I know."


End file.
